


won't you lay hands on me

by scalps (acronymed)



Series: TV on the Radio [2]
Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crack, F/M, Humor, Pining, caroline is hysterical, damon is a sass master, i can't even with any of this, teen wolf crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 06:21:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acronymed/pseuds/scalps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teen Wolf!AU. In which there is a werelizard and everyone pines. Also, Klaus has a phobia of doors. Set sometime in the midst of 'you're a hideous thing inside'.</p>
            </blockquote>





	won't you lay hands on me

**Author's Note:**

> i don’t know if anyone’s figured it out yet but teen wolf has taken over my life
> 
> coming soon: tyler is a werelizard. this surprises exactly no one.
> 
> i’m so sorry

 

_Got a curse I cannot lift  
_ _Shines when the sunset shifts_

.

.

.

Caroline has been in love with Stefan’s older brother since she was like, eight. Maybe nine. Probably ten. Whatever.

Seriously, though, it’s been a while, and she would be ashamed of all the pining except she started liking him around the same time she became a neurotic control freak with a lot of self-esteem issues and she’s still all those things, so the feelings just kind of stuck.

She never said it was a healthy love, okay. Damon is kind of a dick. Actually, he’s a d-bag. Actually, he’s probably the devil, only  the devil is more than likely not prone to bouts of stupidity so great she sometimes wonders if his brain isn’t full of rusty spoons or something. Paperclips. _Thumbtacks_.

No, wait, thumbtacks were totally Stefan’s thing, because Stefan just got straight up dumbass whenever Elena was involved. Caroline thinks she may or may not need new friends. Her life.

Okay, so, moral of the story, a) she’s crazy about Damon in terrible, unhealthy ways, b) he’s an idiot-douche and c) Stefan is very awkward about it.

Very awkward.

“So,” he says slowly, while Caroline systematically picks his curly fires off his lunch tray one by one. “Damon called today.”

Caroline pauses, frowning. “Did he say anything about me?”

Stefan coughs and takes a long pull from his juice ( _juice box_ , she corrects, twitching, when he is a freaking werewolf, she can’t even right now) before muttering, “no.”

She pretends she isn’t crushed. “This conversation is useless, then.”

She goes back to his curly fries with a renewed vigour, because she’s a cheerleader and she’s been to boot camp every summer since she was ten and she has done more suicides than a linebacker so she will eat whatever she damn well pleases, ‘kay thanks. Stefan looks unnecessarily depressed, especially given what he says next: “He said he took the semester off to come visit.”

Caroline lights up. “How long is a semester?”

“Four months.” Stefan doesn’t need to look so pained when he is obviously a precious angel she needs to shower with joy and gratitude and sexy pictures of Elena.

“You are my very best friend,” she says seriously, pushing her plate of carefully stolen fries back towards him, grinning, “and I often spend weeks at a time staying over at your house if anyone asks.” After a beat where Stefan’s eyebrows level out into his sulky ‘everything hurts’ look, she adds, “I have pictures of Elena in her cheerleading outfit.”

“I think I hate everything,” Stefan says around a mouthful of pudding.

“Doing the splits.”

Stefan’s mouth spasms into something either tragically ashamed (only Stefan could feel guilty over something like this, this is a fact) or tragically aroused. For the sake of her everything, Caroline pretends it’s the first one.

She pats him on the shoulder. “Do you think June is a good month to get married in?”

Stefan ‘accidentally’ stabs himself with his fork.

.

.

.

So Damon spends most (read: all) of the time either snarking at people, ignoring her, insulting her, or doing some weird combination of both.

Caroline thinks she is probably a masochist. And that she has issues.

“You are useless,” Damon huffs, stomping away from the canvas. “A dog in a tutu? Seriously? Can you at least pretend to have a brain?”

“Sorry, it’s seems I left it wherever you managed to lose your personality,” she hisses, right before she remembers _goddamit, I’m not supposed to say that_ and stomps into the kitchen, away from Elena and Stefan’s soul-searching-epic-love-teamwork that has them kicking everyone else’s ass at charades.

Damon sneers at her. Because he is a sparkling, shining example of everything that is wrong with humanity.

She has so many issues.

And of course Klaus is just hanging out by her counter. Of course. Because this is her life and it can never be okay to just hang out with her best friend and his girlfriend and her future husband-slash-sex-slave-slash-abusive-relationship. No, she can’t have that.

She has to have dimples.

“Why,” she starts, scrubbing a hand over her face tiredly, “why are you here in my kitchen of all places, now. God, do you even use doors, or is there like, some weird phobia going on here that I don’t know about?”

Klaus is expressionless, for once. Usually, he’s emoting at her in the creepiest way possible with just his eyebrows and that slight quirk of his lips which she does not pay attention to, nope. She stares pointedly at the open window behind him and sighs, “you are a moron.”

“Are you quoting Damon?” he asks tartly, and she realizes he’s clenching his hands into the fabric of his shirt, hard enough it’s starting to tear where his nails press against his biceps. “Because I’m sure he’s said far worse tonight.”

“Oh my God,” she blinks, “how long have you _been_ here?”

He shrugs, and then he’s crowding her up against her fridge. It’s almost comforting, how normal it is. Except not. “Why do you let him speak to you like that?”

“Same reason I’m not screaming about stranger danger right now,” she mutters, flattening herself against the fridge as best she can. Klaus just leans closer, the bastard, until their hips line up. “I clearly suffer from some kind of mental disorder.”

His head tips, and there’s something hard at the edge of his mouth. “You realize I can tell when you’re lying, sweetheart.”

“You realize I don’t really care, right?”

“That was also a lie.” And he looks smug. Still angry, but smug. Dammit.

“Okay, seriously,” she shoves at him, then immediately regrets it because apparently he is made of rock and marble and stone and other things that are hard and oh god what is that against her thigh that is not okay she did not say yes to this— “OH MY GOD.”

Klaus’ lips are curved up, all entertained and smiling like she is the funniest thing ever and Caroline is actually pretty sure she’s having a heart attack. “I’m pretty sure I’m having a heart attack. Please get off. Oh my god but not like that— I meant get away from me— not the sex thing— oh my god you need to _leave_ —”

“Do I fluster you, Caroline?”

“Is that synonymous with infuriate, terrify or nauseate?” He grins at her, feral, and drags his shiny, pointy teeth across her pulse point in one slow motion. “All of the above it is. I hope you know, I have a rape whistle and pepper spray and a mom with a gun.”

Klaus nips at her throat. “None of which are present now.”

Then Stefan chooses to walk in, finally, scowling. “What the hell?”

“YOU ONLY JUST HEARD THIS NOW?” Caroline shrills, with Klaus nosing the underside of her jaw gently, like this is just something they do every day and it really isn’t. “You are the worst werewolf in the history of the universe, Stefan. Just the worst.”

Stefan has the good sense to look guilty.

Damon just looks confused when he comes up behind him.

Her life.

.

.

.

“He’s my creepy ex-boyfriend who I totally have a restraining order against for stalking who picks the locks on all the entryways into my house— windows included because he thinks he’s Spiderman or something, I don’t even know anymore— and then loiters in the darkest corners of my room and kitchen to give me heart attacks because, like, apparently shaving years off my life gives him sick satisfaction. Also, he occasionally tries to have sex with me. But it never works. I just have very thin arms so I can’t really push him off and that’s why I have a rape whistle. You missed a lot.”

This is the story she tells Damon.

She is sticking with it, no matter how hard Stefan laughs.

.

.

.

So between trying to seduce Damon, preventing him from developing a creepy, borderline-obsessive fixation with Elena (seriously, what is up with this girl, even Matt Donavan was giving her the side-eye and he’s been out and proud since he was like, five), chaining Stefan up every full moon so he doesn’t devour small children in red hoodies (March was a very bad month, okay) and developing a heart condition whenever Klaus appears in her house to scare the hell out of her, a lizard-person appears.

A werelizard.

Yeah. She knows.

“It has some kind of paralyzing toxin,” Stefan says, all broody-eyebrows and thin lips. Caroline thinks she might be over her entire life now? She’s at least over this year. “And scales.”

He looks at her expectantly from her bed. Klaus does too, from her windowsill. She fixes them both with her flattest stare and gestures theatrically towards her laptop. “Google away, cavemen. I’m taking a shower.”

When she comes back, neither of them have moved.

“How are either of you considered fully functioning human beings,” she says, towelling her hair and ignoring the full-on leer Klaus is giving her. “Oh, sorry, I meant werewolves. Werebeings. Dumbasses.”

“It has a tail, if that helps,” Stefan says, almost phrasing it like a question, but not quite. He sounds apologetic. Caroline still kicks him in the shin.

It doesn’t help at all. Go figure.

.

.

.

Vicky Donovan used to pop pills in the school bathroom between periods sometimes and she— well— okay, she looked like it would be something she’d do.

So when she comes to school looking like a solid twelve on a scale of one-to-ten in a leather skirt with her hair all mussed up and red lips, Caroline is immediately suspicious. Partly because Damon gives her a long, lingering once over after school which is actually horrifying because he is like six years older than them and it’s actually illegal in most countries except for like Canada because apparently Canada is kind of great.

Also, she climbs into Klaus’ car after hilariously taking one bite out of some poor freshman’s apple and basically ruining everyone’s lives. So, there’s that.

Klaus gives her a saucy wink. Stefan gapes, openly, and actually might be going into shock. Caroline rolls her eyes, quietly doing the math and then calmly freaking out when she realizes she might only be in the top five for hot girls at Mystic High now— how is she going to compete with a leather skirt, ohmygod— and closes his mouth for him.

“Klaus is bad touching all the insecure teenagers in Mystic Falls,” she says blankly, when they pile into Damon’s car, because she is a good person and Stefan looks like he might hurt himself trying to think, and they need to speak in code because Damon can never know anything, even if this sounds terrible. “You should probably do something about that.”

Damon smirks at her, but it‘s a little confused. “I’m guessing you’re next, then?”

Seriously, why does she even like this guy?

.

.

.

So, before the werelizard ever appeared, Elena’s uncle John came to town and decided to avenge his daughter Katherine who Mikael may or may not have brutally murdered.

This is why Caroline sneaking into his office to find a bestiary of all things is probably considered certifiably insane. Especially since, according to Stefan, not three days ago John _bisected_ a homeless werewolf— hobo werewolf? hobowolf?— with a _sword_ and declared _war_.

She’s speed walking across the parking lot in her cheer uniform, smiling tightly at anyone who notices her, when she sees Damon sitting in his car, frowning at the steering wheel.

“ _My life_ ,” she says in dismay, staring at the keys to John’s office— because, oh yeah, he was totally their principle now, she is so done with Mystic Falls, god— and then looking back at Damon. “Seriously?”

Damon rubs at his eye with a knuckle when she taps on the window. “Oh, god, it’s you.”

“Please,” she deadpans, “try and contain your excitement.”

This, for some reason, is charming? Because he like, rolls down the window. She is awesome. “What do you want, Barbie?”

“It’s getting really hard to pretend that’s endearing,” she mutters, before shrugging. “I was just going to ask why you’re lurking in a high school parking lot? Like a creep? Because you’re kind of, you know, old?”

Damon goes to roll up the window again. Caroline presses her hand against the edge of the glass. “Wait, wait. Okay. Seriously. What’s going on? You’re just sitting here in shadow like somebody died.”

He squints at her, tight lipped, and she remember how pale he’d been in the hospital after Mikael had mauled him on the football field. She remembers all the blood, and the stitches afterwards, and the scars he has running across his ribs. He exhales. “You’re going to think I’m insane.”

“I already think that,” she points out, smiling a little, “and I’m a neurotic control-freak on crack, remember? Your crazy has nothing on mine.”

The corner of Damon’s mouth kicks up, and he nods to himself, and then just as he opens his mouth her phone goes off because _of course_ , and she stares at it mutinously as it buzzes.

After a long silence, Damon raises his eyebrows, his expression hard and smug again, a lot like Tyler’s usual rage-douche face, and drawls, “are you going to answer that?”

 _Motherfuc—_ she flips open her phone and tries not to get upset when Damon starts his car and pulls away without even a wave. “This had better be _amazing_.”

“It’s in the pool,” Klaus says, breathing heavily into the mouthpiece, “it just attacked Victoria.”

Caroline doesn’t think, just sprints towards the gym, and says, “Her name is Vicky. God, you are so _British_.”

.

.

.

Being trapped in a pool with Klaus is not high on her list of Things-To-Do-Ever. And by high, she means: non-existent.

“Me and Damon were _this_ close to actually having, like, a civil conversation. Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for that? But nooooo I had to find a freaking bestiary— not bestiality, don’t even, I already went through this with Stefan okay— because there is a werelizard running around killing people, like that is a thing that happens in my life now, and then you call me because Slutty McSkank’s-A-Lot over there got herself knocked out, good job team, and now I am trapped in a goddamn pool with you and Stefan is probably having sex because he is the worst and I am kind of freaking out, okay?!”

“Caroline,” Klaus says patiently, like she isn’t hyperventilating in his ear while a lizard circles them in the pool, “darling, I am paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water.”

“Ah,” Caroline says, after a beat, “right.”

Worst pep rally ever.

.

.

.

Caroline may or may not take a little more time than necessary dragging Klaus up from the bottom of the pool after she drops him to try and call Stefan. Who’d answered and then promptly hung up on her like she wasn’t in mortal peril because um, hello, LIZARD-BEAST.

Klaus narrows his eyes at her after he’s spit up enough water. She smiles back sweetly and grits her teeth when he breathes damply against her cheek totally on purpose for another twenty minutes.

When Stefan finally shows up, she feels nothing but pure joy.

And uncomfortable, because her arms are numb from holding up almost two-hundred pounds of muscle and accent for what felt like forever. Said accent is currently straightening himself out and offering her a hand while Stefan dealt with the Creature Feature across the pool.

“You can move,” she says flatly, staring at his hand like it’d greatly offended her. Which it had. “ _Why can you move_.”

Klaus grins charmingly, as if she isn’t about to eviscerate him with the cleaning net. “Werewolf healing, love.”

“TWO HOURS,” she snarls, and Klaus dances away laughing, of all things, when she jumps to her feet and lunges for him. His fingers brush the inside of her wrist. “I am going to _kill_ you.”

Stefan hesitantly touches her shoulder as the lizard breaks through the ceiling window like something out of a bad superhero movie. She whirls on him, because he’s closer. “ _You_.”

“Have fun with her, mate,” Klaus says cheerfully, as Stefan tries to avoid her grabbing hands and fails, “I know I did.”

“YOU ARE A TERRIBLE ALPHA,” Caroline shrieks, purposely plastering herself against Stefan and soaking his shirt. He better never hang up on her ever again, especially in the middle of a damn crisis. Klaus wiggles his fingers at her as he saunters away, like he didn’t just pretend to be paralyzed for god knows how long so she’d touch him, which is actually probably the creepiest thing that’s ever happened. He’s dragging Vicky’s unconscious body across the floor— laughing, laughing, god he was a nutcase— towards the door when she adds, “I CAN’T EVEN WITH YOUR LIFE CHOICES RIGHT NOW.”

He smirks over his shoulder at her. She hugs Stefan harder and asks how Damon’s doing.

“Dammit, Caroline—”

“You hung up on me,” she says darkly, digging her nails into the skin between Stefan’s ribs. “I was trapped in a pool with Klaus and Godzilla for hours while you were getting your sexy on, you ass.”

There’s a long, awkward pause where Stefan stares at the ceiling and Caroline burrows deeper into him, the pointy part of her chin pressing against his shoulder. Then, gravely, he mutters, “mistakes were made.”

“You owe me a new pair of shoes,” she sniffs, “and your brother.”

They both pretend they can’t hear Klaus destroying something in the parking lot.


End file.
